


GOmens Untucked

by O Lord Damn This Alien (IneffableAlien)



Category: Good Omens (TV), RuPaul's Drag Race ... kind of
Genre: Crowley Is Sickening, Drama queen Crowley, Fighting in the Break Room, Gen, Hastur Is Not That Kind Of Girl, I Can't Believe Beelzebub Was Living While Hastur Was Dying, Iconic Speeches, RDF (Real Demon Fiction)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:34:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23604610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IneffableAlien/pseuds/O%20Lord%20Damn%20This%20Alien
Summary: A fight breaks out between Crowley and Hastur in Hell's employee lounge.
Relationships: Beelzebub & Dagon (Good Omens)
Comments: 20
Kudos: 48





	GOmens Untucked

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ravendiana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravendiana/gifts).



> If you're a fan of Drag Race, then I don't need to explain the joke. You'll figure it out.

Beelzebub dropped their elbows onto their desk with a thud that would have hurt a human, and started to rub their temples in a circular fashion. They had heard the shouting coming from down the hall before anyone brought it to their attention. _Idiots,_ they thought, _I’m in charge of idiots._ Now Dagon stood in the door to their office.

“Beelzebub,” she said, grinning like a shark from ear to ear, “I think that you should come to the break room.”

Beelzebub lowered their arms and sat back, and for a Prince of Hell they sure knew how to sigh like a martyr. “Dagon,” they said, “do you really think I care if two _demonszz_ are going at it? That’s HR’s problem.”

“Not usually, no,” Dagon responded, smile quirking impossibly wider. “But this one’s just entertaining.”

Like any bureaucratic figure, Beelzebub’s job was mind-numbingly boring. They couldn’t help but be intrigued. They raised their eyebrows expectantly.

“I think Hastur is about to kill Satan’s spoiled little pet snake,” Dagon said cheerily.

Beelzebub was not the type to jump for anyone, but you might not know it from the way they jumped out of their seat at this tantalizing crumb of workplace drama. They allowed themself to be led by Dagon to the employee break room.

The intermingled stench of burnt coffee, stale cigarettes, and sulfur hung thickly on the air as Dagon and Beelzebub found places amongst the demons that were crowding along the wall to also watch the show (of course, that wasn’t hard to do, as the assembly immediately parted for the pair). Sure enough, in the middle of the room, stood Duke Hastur, and that stupid serpent, every muscle spring-coiled in a fighting stance. Tables and chairs had been violently shoved aside.

Beelzebub hummed a little dirge to themself as they plundered the cupboards above the sink, which incidentally was piled high with dishes that immediately attracted their flies. They found a bag of popcorn and started making it in the filthy microwave. It had probably been expired since the 1980s, but Beelzebub wasn’t really much for human food anyway; they just had an instinct that having a bag for an occasion such as this would add that certain _something_ extra.

“Ever since the Fall, _ever since the Fall,”_ Hastur was ranting, “who’s had the most destructive ideas in the entire Kingdom?? ‘Cause Down—‘cause Down Here you’ve had five thousand blessed ‘nice guy’ pitches Down Here.”

Crowley stepped in quick as a cobra at the accusation, his nose nearly touching Hastur’s. “Oh, wait a minute, wait a minute, wait a minute,” he babbled, repeating the words manically, “wait up, hold up—so I look like some Heaven-loving _‘nice guy’?_ So I’m Heaven-loving _‘nice guy’?”_

“You don’t do _any_ damage,” Hastur shouted in Crowley’s face, who responded by jolting back a few steps and waving his hand in front of his nose to make a show of his opinion of Hastur’s breath. Hastur either didn’t notice, or didn’t care. “You don’t do _any_ damage!” Hastur raged again stupidly.

“And you’re worse then?” Crowley snarled.

Hastur’s black eyes widened with offense. “I am a thousand times more destructive than anybody in here,” he yelled, jabbing a finger aggressively in the direction of the demons forming the audience.

“Oh, _thousand times,”_ Crowley quoted sarcastically. He motioned then to the other demons, raising his arms, palms up, and pointedly making eye contact with a couple of them. His meaning was clear: _He’s talking about you, too, you know._ A murmur of discontent rolled around the peanut gallery.

“Like,” Hastur pressed, ignoring this, “I’m not gonna go Up There acting like you, like—you do you, I’m gonna be me.”

Crowley sneered. “What is ‘me’ and what is ‘you’?” he demanded to know.

“What is you??” Hastur scoffed. “You flash bastard, look at the mirror! You can manifest Up There and look like you’ve gone completely native—like a God-blessed worthless human. I will _never_ look like that!”

“True,” Crowley said flatly, preening a bit as he shrugged to straighten his jacket. “You _wish_ you looked like me.”

Hastur inhaled sharply with disgust. “Oh!” he started raving. “Just ‘cause you got an angel partner who does half of your work for you!”

A scandalized chorus of _ooohs_ rang through the demons against the wall. Beelzebub—whose popcorn was done and in their hand—barked out a loud laugh.

Crowley’s jaw hung open.

 _How did this scum find out about_ my _Aziraphale?_ Crowley thought, but he was instantly ready to conceal his horror just as well as the truth.

“Time out, hold up,” Crowley seethed softly, lowering his head so that his now fully snake eyes could be seen over his sunglasses. “Hold up, maggot. Let’s get it together before you run your mouth.” _We’re not even in a relationship,_ Crowley thought miserably. Crowley came in close to Hastur yet again, wrath radiating off him. “I don’t have an angel partner, maggot. Everything that I’ve done, I’ve _worked_ for, and I’ve _worked_ to damn souls, and _all by myself._ So I need you to know that 100-percent.” Crowley’s fangs were showing. “I don’t have an angel partner, I’ve never had an angel partner, if I wanted an angel partner, yes, I probably can go out and get one because I am what? _TEMPTING._ You could never have an angel partner because **you. Are not. That kind. Of frog.** Asshole, everything I’ve had I worked for, and I’ve gotten myself. I built myself since the Garden, _bloody CUNT!”_

On the last expletive of that rampage, Crowley grabbed a cup of coffee off the table behind him. It had probably gone cold by now, but it was not cold anymore as he threw it in Hastur’s face. Hastur gave a high-pitched scream and raced out of the room. Crowley stalked out mere seconds after, kicking a chair and throwing the coffee cup as he stomped away. The demons that had been present erupted in cheers and laughter.

Beelzebub held out the remains of the open popcorn bag to Dagon. “Bad work, Dagon,” they said, surprisingly amiable. “That _waszz exzzactly_ what my day needed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 Not that she generally grinned any other way.
> 
> 2 Aside from the odd phone call from Upstairs, and Beelzebub did not want to think right now about what hearing their Heavenly equivalent’s voice did to this stupid corporation and why.
> 
> 3 After all: **Crowley doesn’t get ready, he stays ready.**
> 
> [Because I am what? _TEMPTING._](https://youtu.be/yzx-HSSV0YU)
> 
> xx [siliconealien](http://siliconealien.tumblr.com)

**Author's Note:**

> _...[because I am what? TEMPTING](https://youtu.be/yzx-HSSV0YU)._
> 
> xx [siliconealien](http://siliconealien.tumblr.com)


End file.
